Gorgeous day down on the south Ayrshire coast, with Arran looming like something transplanted from the Alps. Ayr Harbour lost its fishing fleet to Troon years ago, but it still has ships coming to and fro, mostly dealing with minerals, salt, scrap iron and wood as far as I can see. Ayr beach has so much scrap timber you could run an entire community of stoves for winter after winter, and never pay a penny. It’s all I can do to stop myself gathering in the logs…